


Learn to Live

by creativeidiote



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Birdflash - Freeform, But not anymore haha.... ha, Canon-Typical Violence, Damijon - Freeform, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson quits his job and gets a better one, Everyone is happy because im soft and weak :), F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Gymnastics coach Dick Grayson, In which dami acts like hes too cool for the other kids but only for like 5 seconds, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Minor Linda Park/Wally West, Minor TimKon, Multi, Timkon, also since this is mainly a dick grayson story uh, also tons of these characters are only here briefly i guess?, dick grayson gets involved in kid gossip, dick grayson was a cop, kids being kids i guess bc theres a lot of that, minor damijon, not much thought went into this fic before i started writing it so i apologize for that, possibly also minor batcat and superbat eventually? But in the bg, the death tag is for discussion and flashbacks for Jason, the violence tag is just canon typical fighting, wally and linda briefly dated here but decided to sorta break up kinda so uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2020-11-27 09:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativeidiote/pseuds/creativeidiote
Summary: So y'all know how in Canon(tm) they went "sure being a cop is a reasonable career for someone to take when they also lose sleep as a vigilante and so that means this person probably spends 24/7 nonstop thinking all day every day yeah that's definitely healthy"Haha... ha.Yeah that sucks in my opinion so we're doing a uh... I guess AU? Yeah, sure.The DG/Everyone tag is bc his friends and family wanna check in on him... :') let me have this one (1) thing.





	1. Fall in the night, Fly in the day

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I'm a clown please go easy on me

Life was never easy for Dick. I mean, you’d figure, since he goes by “Dick” instead of just simply “Richard.” There are so many awkward situations he gets into because of that, and sometimes he’s tempted to go by some other nickname or something of the sort. But… He just can’t do it. 

It’s one of the many things he never lost from the circus days. Most days he’s just a kid who really, really misses his family. Sometimes a silly childhood nickname makes him feel more whole, even when the coffee shop employees give him strange looks. Or some stranger laughs about some joke they’ve made that he’s heard a million times. 

Besides, he’s been Dick for so long, what else could he possibly go by that would feel  _ right. _

He likes trying to reason with himself that it’s more than just longing to remember that makes him refuse to go by any other name. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t bother him, the fact that he can’t even remember how his mother’s voice sounded except in dreams. It’s strange, he can think of what she might say in response to one thing or another, he remembers all of her favorite movies, but he can't remember what she sounded like. 

He remembers which cowboy actors she preferred over others, even if he can’t always remember their names, if he sees one of their movies on he can’t help but think of his mother. He remembers which boy bands she had posters of when she was a teenager, all these little stories she would laugh about and tell him. 

He remembers how his father never had a favorite color, the smell of the exact type of coffee he liked, the smile he’d give Dick when he was especially proud of him. 

But he had trouble remembering their voices. Sometimes it took him too long to remember their faces, or the exact colors of their eyes. It makes him feel guilty sometimes, that he’s not able to remember them. What will he do if one day he has kids and they want to know what his parents were like?

Sure, he can tell them back all the stories told to him… But will the details be gone by then? 

Dick wonders briefly what other people think of when they wake, and if contemplating the limits of one’s memory is a normal waking thought. Something tells him it isn’t, but perhaps normal just isn’t what he should be aiming for anymore. 

If this was a few months ago, he’d be much too busy to think of these things. That’s part of what appealed to him about being a cop… No time to think. You take life as a vigilante and mix in being a cop and suddenly there’s so much to solve all the time and no time for pesky thoughts about what you’ll do one day if you ever decide to have kids. 

Some upbeat and loud pop song in another language fills the air. It startles Dick, who was growing lost in thought again. Light hits tired, sore eyelids as a forearm is quick to cover them from the offending rays. A groan escapes, only for his own ears to hear due to the empty nature of the room.

The time is 8AM, it's time for him to wake. And yet, Dick Grayson has already been awake for about an hour, give or take. A few months ago, he wouldn't have had the luxury of laying down for extra time pretending to sleep like he does now. He's glad for it... It's one of the perks he didn't realize quitting his job would bring. He thinks again about how much easier it was to mindlessly throw his thoughts into an endless stream of mysteries and unsolved cases. He knows he initially became a cop because he thought it would help people, but it wasn’t the only reason. Of course, he always lied to himself and told himself he became a cop so that he'd have easier access to things for his... night job. It got to a point where he started believing the lie. And then he had one night where he nearly dies, just like many nights, but this time something clicked. Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a uniform made up of a bulletproof vest and not skin tight spandex at the time. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't barely ate or slept for the days prior, so he knew if he bled any more he would have nothing left in him but coffee and regrets. Maybe it was the fact that when he was saved this time his savior was FURIOUS and he couldn't think of a good enough excuse anymore as to why he does this to himself.

And Donna had every right to be mad. He had wandered into a drug bust without backup like a dumbass and thought in his haze of determination and sleep deprivation that he could handle it, and if she hadn't figured out where he was, he doubts he would have survived the encounter. For some odd reason, one Bruce Wayne comes to his mind in that exact second.

He tries to block the sun out of his eyes as he rolls over in his bed.  The alarm begins going off again and he takes a break from his introspective spiral to reach over and turn it off. He finally decides to meander out of bed, bones creaking like old floorboards as he stretches his half-awake body to summon some form of energy. Almost like clockwork, his phone rings. He sighs, lamenting at how he  _ just _ turned off the alarm, when he goes to answer it. The familiar voice of a lifelong friend brings a little life to his tired limbs. He feels his heart swell like the first rush of air as you’re leaping through the sky, a metaphor he’s much too familiar with to be using.

“Oh, you’re answering your phone now? I thought you’d sleep through the day.” He hears hearty laughter, and it brings a smile slowly crawling across his tired features.

“I’d miss out on coffee if I did that.” He eases over to the mirror, inspecting his recent injuries to see how he’s faring. His eyes are full of the weight of every mistake he’s made, and he tries to practice smiling through it all like he does every day.

“Is that all I’m good for?” The voice on the other end is full of humor, no bitterness meant by the statement. A fond look crosses Dick’s face.

“Of course not! You’re also fun to laugh at.” It earns him a low chuckle, and he knows the one on the other end is absolutely rolling his eyes. 

“I’m outside, birdbrain. Play nice or I’ll change my mind!”

“No you won’t.” 

“Oh yeah?” He opens the door, eyes meeting shining green ones. He hangs up the phone.

“Mhm. You love me too much to abandon me! Especially in my time of need!” The dramatics and humor come naturally to him, the pain and introspection taking it’s usual place at the back of his mind behind his constant smile. 

“Whatever, dude. Are you gonna let me in or not?” Wally rolls his eyes at his antics like he always does, but there’s still a smile on his face. Something about that warms Dick’s chest even more than it already was warming. He tries not to dwell on it for too long.

“Do you think I wouldn’t let you in?” He laughs, stepping aside so that Wally doesn’t drop the coffees he was so kind to pick up, like he does on many mornings. He’s such a good friend. He’s always so kind, and caring, and he always knows exactly what Dick needs. 

Moments pass as Dick sips at coffee and struggles to slowly get ready for work. He’s listening to the calming sound of his best friend rambling about one thing or another as the seconds tick by, and the sound is almost white noise if not for the fact that he’s paying such close attention to what’s being said that he forgets to get ready. 

“Dude can you put some clothes on already? You’re gonna be late to work.” Dick almost kids himself into thinking Wally’s cheeks are a little red, before he remembers that’s ridiculous. Why would he be turning red over something so silly, they’ve seen so much of each other over the years that it should be no big deal.

“It’s your fault, you tell such interesting stories.” Wally snorts, giving him a look.

“You’re just stalling. C’mon, the first day can’t be that bad. I’m sure you’re so good with kids it’d make everyone else look bad.”

“Aw, you’re sweet. But honestly… I don’t know about this. I’ve never exactly… done this before.” Wally gives him a much more sympathetic look, voice turning serious. 

“You’ll be fine. How is this any different than leading the titans? And before you even  _ try _ to start about how you’re a bad leader, I’ll remind you how wrong you are about that.”

“Thanks Wally…”

“Now put on a shirt already, okay? I’m gonna be late for work!” Wally’s voice sounds somewhat whiney, and Dick can’t help but laugh.

“God! You’re so impatient, you know you didn’t have to come here if it’s that close to your shift. I could’ve gotten coffee on my own.”

“Of course I had to come here, dummy, who else would come make sure you crawled out of bed this morning?” Dick laughs as he tries to finish getting ready for his first day at his new job.

\-----

It smells like a school gymnasium, the scent of sweat and stinky socks and vague plastic odors fill the room. The sounds of laughter and play swell in the air around him, surrounding him with a positive atmosphere for him to channel his energy into, hoping it will help him for what’s to come. An intimidating crowd of children stand at the far end of the room, unaware of the fact that their new teacher has no idea what he’s doing. He slowly approaches, walking much too slow and yet he’s much too nervous to fix that. He feels the butterflies in his stomach eat through to his lungs in such a staggering speed that pressure in his chest feels as if he might explode in a flurry of wings and bright colors any second now. His shoes squeak on the flooring so loud he thinks the gods themselves might hear it, and judge him for not wearing better footwear.

The kids conversations halt as he approaches and he briefly remembers times when it made him nervous as a kid, as if conversation halted just because of him. Only this time, it did.

Wide, curious eyes bore into him from all directions, inspecting him as if he’s some strange creature the likes of which they’ve never seen before. It makes him feel beads of sweat on his palms.

“Hey Mister, are you lost?” He blanches, thoughts going blank.

“I-uh.. What?”

“Are you lost?”

“No… No I am not lost. I-”

“But you’re too old to be a student?”

“I’m your new teacher.” A few kids gasp.

“You aren’t  _ that _ old!”

“Yeah, what happened to our other teacher. That lady was old!”

“Oh.. Well she still teaches here, I’m just going to be teaching you guys sometimes when she cant.”

“Oh. Are you any good?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you any good?”

“Oh, at uh.. At Gymnastics?” Several kids nod at him, and he feels a bit more nervous than he was before. “I used to be an acrobat in the circus many years ago, so… I have a little knowledge in it.”

“Show us!” So many pairs of eyes stare at him expectantly. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Oh… sure.” He finds his way over to a nicely structured area, it has many obstacles for him to figure out something to do with. Maybe doing a few flips might calm him down. He stretches a little, taking deep breaths, before he sets to work like a man who’s been doing this his whole life.


	2. Oh, you’re a pretty bird, aren’t you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long, don't worry the next will come much sooner

And that’s because he has been doing this his whole life. And yet, in front of this audience of children, his palms are sweaty. Why do the stares of these children make him  _ this _ nervous? It’s no big deal, right? They’re just kids. Why is he so worried about what they’ll think of him? He takes a few deep breaths.

His nerves ease as he stretches, learning to ignore the many eyes watching him. And then he sets to work, and the joy of what he does overrides his nerves. For him, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of flying through the air. Supes has taken him flying a few times, and he’d never admit it to Clark, but he prefers being in the air on his terms. Sure, it’s fun being carried into battle, or just in general… But… he just loves free falling. It’s a wonder to him  _ why _ he loves it, considering how his parents died, but...it seems his trauma hasn’t affected this  _ one _ thing. There’s so much else about himself he  _ knows _ got affected by that happening at such a young age, he’s glad this  _ isn’t.  _

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s enjoying himself until it’s over, and his feet are back on the ground. His eyes adjust, his cheeks hurt from a grin he didn’t realize he had on his face. And all the kids are swarming him with big, wonder-filled eyes and a billion questions.

The attention stresses him out, but something about the joy in the kids eyes soothes him. Before long, he has an army of eager kids chasing after him, copying his every move. It feels like that scene in the Mulan sequel, except he’s the only teacher. He feels so at ease all of a sudden, easily talking and sharing and listening.

Sometimes talking to kids is just… easier. They don’t put as much pressure and expectation on you. Like why you haven't bought a house instead of living in an apartment, or mentioning how someone your age just got married or had a kid… It’s easier to talk to kids. They’re never as disappointed in you.

He feels kinda old, though, surrounded by these little ankle biters. He was about this age when Bruce took him in. He knows logically that he isn’t that old, but, these kids are just so small and frail. He was this small once, running around in green scaly short shorts, leaping off buildings, watching the sunrise on the roof of Wayne Manor as Bruce hands him a poptart, he’d begun carrying them in some pocket somewhere on the batsuit because he knew Dick would be worried that Bruce didn’t eat if he didn’t eat at least  _ something _ in front of him. Some mornings they would sit on the kitchen counters. Their capes, and masks, and shoes, and gloves discarded, waiting patiently for hot pockets to heat in the microwave. The first glimpses of sunlight would be hitting the kitchen floor, and Dick would be struggling to keep his eyes open. He’d always forget falling asleep, waking in his bed some time later perfectly rested but still in costume.

He gets a little fuzzy headed thinking about it. So, he doesn’t think, he just works on teaching these kids to the best of his ability.

\----

His time is up, teaching-wise that is, and so he decides to head over a few blocks to the local mechanics. Wally doesn’t get off for another hour, anyways. It’s a peaceful walk, the weight of the sports bag somehow reassuring on his shoulder.

“Hey, Grayson!” Huh, what’s that all about. He turns, seeing one of his old ‘coworkers,’ if that’s the right word. It’s weird seeing the other policemen out and about in uniforms and not wearing one.

“Oh, hey man. What’s up?” The man in question finishes walking over, now within comfortable talking distance. 

“Oh, not much. It’s just cool seeing you doing so well. You gave us a real scare after the drug bust. I hadn’t even heard you had made it out of the hospital already.”

“Shit, sorry man. Yeah, I’m actually doing a part time job now.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you doing?” He turns a little red, somewhat embarrassed.

“Oh, uh, teaching kids’ gymnastics. I used to be in the circus as a kid, I was an acrobat.”

“Oh, really? You seem a lot more relaxed.”

“Yeah, I am! Thank you. Hey, shouldn’t you be getting back to work?”

“Crap, you’re right. Hey, it’s good seeing you.”

“You too!” He watches to make sure he makes it back to where he was safely, and start his walk again. He puts on some ambient music, putting in only one earbud. 

It’s the kind of walk you sometimes see in anime, like when it’s in some small town and they’re walking to school. It brings a smile to his face. 

He reaches the mechanics without much fanfare, stopping at Wally’s table to set down his bag and his jacket. He stretches, looking around for Wally.

“Hey Wally, where are you?” He hears a thud.

“Fuck, ouch.” Wally rolls out from under the car next to Dick, rubbing his forehead. There's a spot of grease on it. “Dude, warn me next time.”

“How? You never answer your phone when you’re working. I know how much you hate getting car crap on it.”

“Ugh, yeah dude, it’s the worst. It never comes off.” He grabs the rag hanging right above his head over the front of the car. He wipes at his forehead, more or less smearing the grease around.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He crouches, grabbing the cloth from Wally’s hand. “Give me that, you’re just making it worse.” 

He slowly tries his best to rub away the grease spot, and he nearly gets it all the way off.

“How am I looking?” He’s a little startled when Wally speaks, his chest feels tight for some reason. He blinks for a few moments, and Wally looks up at him expectantly. He tosses the rag at his face.

“Just as bad as ever, man. I can’t get it all off.” He looks away, wondering why he suddenly feels embarrassed. Wally sits up suddenly, panicking.

“No! Aw man, I’m supposed to meet up with Linda later. I think she might want to get back together.” For some reason, Dick suddenly isn’t feeling so hot. Maybe he hasn’t been eating enough?

“Don’t get your hopes up, last time she wanted to meet it was to give you back some of your stuff from her apartment.” Wally turns a little red, looking away.

“Yeah, about that…” Dick groans, almost face-palming before he remembers he just had a dirty rag in his hand.

“What is it now?”

“Well… if she isn’t looking to get back together… I kinda need somewhere to stay… do you think I could crash at your place?” Dick actually does face-palm this time.

“Wally, where the hell have you been staying?”

“Uh, here..? Why do you think I keep working the graveyard shift?” 

“Where do you even sleep here? I don’t see anywhere to sleep..?”

“Oh, uh, there's a couch in the breakroom. It’s bad on my back, though.”

“Look, man, it sucks but I’m not sure if I have room. At least, not in this apartment. I still haven’t moved all my stuff in, all I’ve got is a bed. You know this.”

“I’ll just sleep on your floor or table or something, it’s no big deal.”

“No way I’m letting you sleep on the floor.”

“Ok well we’ll think of something, alright? Just please let me crash at your place?”

“I dunno, man.” Wally leans closer, doing his best rendition of puppy eyes. Both of his hands clasped together as he pleads. He’s close enough Dick can feel his breath, and he tries to ignore how warm his cheeks are getting. This isn’t the first time they’ve been this close, why does he always get embarrassed?

“Oh, fine, whatever.” Wally grins, and he doesn’t make any move to lean back. So, neither does Dick, despite this weird bout of embarrassment.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” 

“You’re just saying that because I’m giving you a place to sleep.”

“Maybe.” He finally leans back, stretching. “Maybe not.” 

The tanktop he’s wearing has so many holes and cuts through it, and Dick knows the shirt well. It’s always been his work shirt. He watches the holes move and stretch as Wally lifts his arms over his head. His bones don’t crackle as loud as Dick’s do, he supposes speed healing must have it’s benefits. Wally looks at him suddenly, grinning.

“Aw, you worried about me? Don’t worry, there’s no new cuts or anything.”

“I know that, dummy. I’ve seen the shirt enough times. Besides, I’m not seeing any blood.”

“Hey, I’m not dumb.”

“Wally, we’re both stupid as all hell. You know this, it’s part of our appeal. Do you think we’d collectively pull as many girls if we weren’t?”

“Psh, I’m only dumb-passing. And well, pull girls you say, but you like never go on dates anymore. Not since Babs moved and Kori uh…” He was about to say ‘moved on,’ Dick thinks. “Sorry bro, I know that one’s fresh. Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s cool, Wall. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Besides, I’m good. I’m over it, too.”

“Yeah, but Donna’s like, your best friend, so I get how that would suck-”

“No, see, that’s where you’ve got it wrong.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“ _ You’re _ my best friend.” Wally turns a little red, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever, I need to get back to work.” Dick watches as Wally pulls himself back under the car, and he still feels a little weird. He goes digging for a snack in his bag, disappointed when he can’t find one.

“Hey, do you guys have a vending machine?”

“Dude, don’t bother, I pretty much emptied it of the only good crap. Jusst wait, I get off soon, we could get something to eat then.”

“I thought you’re meeting up with Linda?”

“Yeah, but we aren’t meeting for dinner.”

“Dude, seriously? I didn’t think she was-”

“NO! No, bro, I meant we’re meeting up to talk. JUST talk. God.”

“Oh. Okay, well, when you worded it that way, you know, you can see how I would have taken it the wrong way.”

“Dude, would I really talk about something like that so loudly around all my coworkers?”

“That’s true, I bet all these old men sure would give you weird looks.”

“Oh haha, but I’m serious. That sort of talk is for when we’re alone, so that no one gets the wrong idea about her.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dick sighs. “Dude, I’m seriously hungry, I think.”

“You think? You mean you don’t know?”

“Yeah I just feel all weird, man. Probably just hungry.”

“Well, if you’d quit distracting me I could get done sooner.”

“Alright.” And so Dick sits quietly, watching Wally work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha guys im still alive can you believe it???


	3. I’m burning through the sky, yeah, 200 degrees that's why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grand times with good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gamers sorry i ghosted for a while im having technical difficulties, my phones broken and it has my notes for how the chapters will be going, so sorry if this one seems lackluster or anything!

He finally starts to head home, stomach and heart both fairly full, though he made sure to eat little enough that he might grow hungry later should Wally come over. He knows Wally always needs a second dinner, like a hobbit, and he doesn’t mind having to cook. He is feeling fairly relaxed and the walk home is much like the walk to the mechanic’s shop. The air is light, his music is nondescript, and there’s the feeling that from now on, he’s going to have very many good days ahead of him.

He reaches the door of his apartment, pausing. The door’s cracked open, and inside he can hear a bunch of voices loudly laughing and singing along to Queen, likely using his record player. Did a gang of feral, wild theatre kids break into his apartment at, he checks his phone, five in the afternoon? He then sees how many missed calls he has from various different people and realizes, perhaps, it’s a gang of feral, wild friends that have broken in. He decides he’s the brave type, opening the door to test it. After all, theatre kids can be fairly dangerous if left to their own devices, just look at half of Gotham’s rogue gallery.

Lounging about like dirty laundry in a lazy teenage girl’s bedroom is an assortment of friends, who all seem to have let themselves in. He really needs to buy more furniture if this is going to be a regular thing. None of them have noticed that he’s home yet. He decides to continue watching the group goof off for a while, enjoying it. He’s used to only seeing so many of them gathered when there’s an emergency. It’s nice seeing them actually enjoying themselves and not stressing about something or another. 

However, he only gets to enjoy it for a little longer before an unidentified weight approximate of a twelve-ish year old is launched at him at the fastest speed a non-superhuman can manage. He can only assume the unidentified flying child is none other than Damian Wayne, naturally. This is, after all, a customary greeting for the boy since the time Dick had to take over as Batman for a while. He pats the back of the now identified child, earning a muffled “You’re late, Grayson” in response.

“Oh, yeah? So there was a time I needed to be home to find my apartment broken into?” he gets the classic Damian Wayne ‘tch’ in response, but the boy still squeezes him so hard he thinks he might lose a rib.

“Hey, you’re home!” He turns in the direction of the voice, finding that Donna Troy is now coming in for a hug as well, smiling warmly. Uh oh, quick Grayson, prepare yourself. This has the makings of a group hug. He better get ready so he doesn’t do anything stupid like tear up, showing everyone just how little human contact he’s been having for months. 

And, sure enough, as soon as Donna notices him, the others do, too. Uh oh. He’s right, this is quickly going to become a group hug. He needs to think fast, what thoughts will prevent him from having an unsightly emotional response? Cheese. He’ll think about cheese.

Within seconds he’s at the center of the metaphorical pile-up, surrounded by arms and well wishes, and he tries his best not to get too sentimental. After all, he suddenly realizes, this is the first time he’s seen everyone together since he was in the hospital, right before he quit his previous job. It’s a little easier not to get too emotional when he notices some of the others brought friends who either awkwardly joined the hug despite not knowing him well or are equally awkwardly hanging around in the background unsure of what to do. Also, he notices Damian wound up at the center, too. And he is comically distressed about this. It’s hard to get teary eyed when you have a kid yelling at everyone to back up who is simultaneously clung onto you for dear life. 

After a few moments, everyone escapes back to whichever corner of his apartment they had previously inhabited before the group decided it was hug time. Good, any longer and he would have wept. This is both a threat and a promise.

“So, how was your first day?” Oh good, the questions start. Luckily he only has good answers this time. Besides, he knows Donna won’t let him dodge her questions, she’s known him too long.

“It was great! I did better than I thought I would.” There she is with that warm, reassuring smile again. He needed it, he thinks.

“Oh, c’mon Dick, you’re being hard on yourself. We all knew you’d do great, you’ve been leading all of  _ us _ for how long now?” He laughs, only partially self-deprecating.

“Well, y’know, kids are hard. I could have done horribly.”

“But, you didn’t.” Tim says, finally looking up from his switch. Dick thinks he sees Animal Crossing, but really, it could be anything. He really needs to catch up on games now that he has free time, or Wally will never let him live it down. He remembers how hard of a time Wally gave him when he slipped up and ENTIRELY on accident called Link ‘Zelda’ after a particularly annoying concussion. 

“True, I didn’t.” 

“Obviously.” Damian pipes up in the middle of his Uno game with a kid Dick seems to remember being Uncle Clark’s son. It’s kinda cute that Bruce and Clark’s sons are friends, Dick thinks. It’s fitting. It seems like Damian is winning, but he hopes the Kent kid can fix that. After all, Damian is much too smug about always winning Uno.

Thankfully, though, conversation slides into another topic after that, and he’s able to get a little comfortable not having to talk about his work day. As much as it’s easier to answer questions when all he has are positive answers, he’d much rather watch his loved ones inhabit his home. It’s kind of amusing that apparently none of them had planned to come over as a group, they just sort of wound up there. He notices his boxes have been moved around some too, some of his stuff unpacked. He figures everyone had to go through his stuff if they found his record player, but he doesn’t mind. He has no secrets from any of them, not anymore. He also has time to consider perhaps getting better locks on all the different entrances to this apartment since everyone here had been able to break in from completely different entrances and while yes he is happy to see everyone, who else could break in? Well, he’d never get it so fortified that the likes of Bruce or Selina or even Clark couldn’t get in, but he’d like to at least ensure he can keep most out.

Speaking of Clark…    
  
“Hey, Jon was it…?” The kid in red and blue looks up, groaning when Damian reminds him it’s his turn. He throws down a card before looking back up.

“How’re your parents doing? It’s been a while since I’ve checked in.” He gets a panicked look really quick out of the kid, who shoots up from where he’d been crouching on the floor.   
  
“Oh yeah! I’m so sorry I completely forgot!” He comically runs at normal human speed to the kitchen, bringing back a bundle of fabric. Dick’s heart pounds… could it be? 

“Mom and dad knew I was headed here so they told me to give you this!” The boy looks so much like a kicked dog, he probably thinks Dick will be mad at him for forgetting.   
  
“Aw, tell them thanks.” He decides to apply the ‘big bro shoulder pat’ to let the kid know it’s okay and within seconds he’s beaming again. He’s a really cute kid, Dick muses. He definitely has Clark’s sunny disposition. He unwraps the bundle gently and much to his hopes, there lies a few slices of homemade apple pie. He wonders if Ma Kent made this one, but maybe it was Lois? He’s heard that she’s trying her hand at the Kent family recipe. His heart swells. There really is nothing like good home cooked food. It’s why he’s been trying to learn how to cook since he’s been living alone, but it’s different when someone else makes the food for you. It’s even more different when someone makes the food  _ with _ you. 

He decides to excuse himself to the kitchen so he can put the pie away and take a moment to collect himself before he gets too emotional again. Every time he thinks of cooking with people, it reminds him of times when the whole circus would work together to make dinner. His job was always handing everyone what they needed, sometimes he even got to wash vegetables and help cut them. Even when the Titans would cook together, it wasn’t exactly the same. They always made stuff like pizza or ramen, but when he was in the circus it was always  _ real _ meals. They didn’t have all the money in the world, obviously, but they made such good meals. Hearty stews, dishes he doesn’t know the name of and hasn’t been able to recreate properly ever since… He treasures those evenings in the circus when everyone would prepare meals together, laughing and sharing stories. They all had lived such colorful lives, and knew such fun stories. 

Maybe, someday, he can have everyone over again when he’s ready and put this kitchen to good use. Maybe then it will feel just like those evenings with his hands full of carrots and his ears full of stories of adventure.

After a while, people start to filter out. Some of them young enough to have curfews, some of them old enough to have jobs to worry about in the morning. By the time the apartment is empty, Dick is also feeling a little empty. He half expects to turn a corner and run into a rogue teen or twenty-something still running loose in his decently sized apartment. 

He decides to start gathering ingredients for his dinner, knowing he’ll be eating late. He also decides to grab extra since he knows Wally will still be hungry despite having just ate. Probably even more so since he’ll likely use superspeed so he can grab his overnight bag and, based on his current living situation, probably all of his other belongings, too. 

He decides not to set to work yet, waiting until he hears word of whether or not Wally really is staying over or not so that he can avoid cooking more than he can eat. So, he turns on Netflix and continues to watch the new season of an anime he likes. He’s heard this season is rather adult so he’s hoping he finishes it up before Wally comes over just to avoid any awkwardness. Besides, he’s not even sure if Wally is comfortable watching that kind of stuff or not. He decides not to dwell on the thought too much as the episode starts to get into the juice of the plot. 

He hopes this season that his favorites will catch a break. Although he's played the games the anime is based on, he already knows it will get much worse for them before it starts to get better. He pauses so he can go get one of his hidden comfort plushies to aid him in the emotional roller coaster he already knows is headed his way. 

The box of well-loved plushies stare up at him from the bottom of his closet, and as he contemplates which ones to dump onto his bed for tonight’s viewing party, he feels guilty about leaving them in there for so long. So, he dumps both boxes onto his bed. He starts the episode and spends most of it keeping his hands busy with organizing which spot on his bed his plushies will live in. He’s glad he got such a big bed when he was apartment shopping. There’s plenty of room to buy even more plushies. And he knows none of his friends will judge him for it, they all probably collect them, too. He laughs when he comes across the plushies he bought years and years ago of the titans, it’s just like one of the main characters in the show he’s watching. 

He smiles fondly at the various friend-shaped plushies he’s collected over the years, placing them all close to his pillow. It’s oddly comforting to him, knowing even as the years pass they’ll always make cute plushies of superheroes and their sidekicks. 

He also tries his best to ignore the Wally body pillow taking up some of the space on his bed. He got it when they went to some convention, Wally couldn’t stop laughing so they wasted their money on matching body pillows. He figures Wally doesn’t still have the embarrassing Nightwing pillow so this is the perfect joke. He knows he’ll find it funny, and they’ll reminisce. Although, his cheeks feel a little warm when he realizes that it’s a bit odd that he’s keeping the damn thing on the bed with him. He decides to continue ignoring it.

Once he’s content with the order of his faithful companions, he gets cozy. He feels himself start to drift off but he keeps his eyes peeled, trying to finish the season. He’s so close to the end. 

Next thing he knows he’s awoken by a soft ‘no way’ and sounds of what absolutely is one of the more embarrassing scenes of the season. His first instinct is to pause the episode.

“God, I really need new locks.” He turns, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He only then realizes he’s holding the cursed body pillow. He nearly sends it flying off the bed in his panicked response.

“Wow, way to set the mood, man.” Dick groans, wanting to die on the spot, actually. 

“Shut up.”

“I can’t believe you still have that thing.” The bed shifts, and Wally laughs. “Mine is in one of my boxes, actually.”

“No! I had no idea you still had yours. I was planning on making you embarrassed.” Wally laughs even harder.

“Oh yeah well two can play that game.” He regretfully opens his eyes right as Wally pulls out a pillow printed with a drawing very accurate to his actual ass shape. He tries not to wonder how the artist got his ass so accurate.

“No!!! It’s horrible!”

“Oh come on, Dick, if you didn’t want people drawing you like this why are you always posing like this.” 

“I never pose! You’re a liar, Wallace Rudolph West! I cannot stand for this slander!” 

“Don’t full name me! You  _ do _ pose like this a lot. Here, watch, if I google you there’s so many pictures.”

“Oh, and how would you know? Are you on my fanpages?”

“Shut up” He gets a pillow to the face right before Wally is leaning over him, showing him his phone screen. Oh. So, he does pose like that fairly often. Maybe growing up around Catwoman had something to do with it. Who knows.

There’s much laughter that follows, as Wally tries to recreate the poses and Dick throws harmless things at him. The laughter only continues as Wally decides to commentate on everything going on on screen, without any spoilers of course. Neither of them even notice when they drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha hows about that new season of castlevania tho ahahaa damn. I, much like Dick, know it gets worse for Alucard before it gets better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far I really didn't think anyone would survive my writing. Yeethaw.


End file.
